


The Queen’s Man

by Writingwife83



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Class Differences, Drama, F/M, Plenty of JUST KISSSS, Romance, emotional restraint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-01-29 12:24:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12631005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writingwife83/pseuds/Writingwife83
Summary: A new Queen Molly is pleased to have Sherlock, a skilled personal guard, to protect and advise her as she settles into her role as a young ruler. Trust between them is key, but there are other more complicated emotions that begin simmering under the surface.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CumberCougars (lunacatd)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunacatd/gifts).



> Ok so I was hit hard by seeing this photo manipulation done on tumblr by @cumbercougars. It inspired me to write a little thing to go with it, and then somehow it snowballed into more ideas. I’m kind of a sucker for medieval stuff. Plot and backstory and the like is minimal for this, but it is building as a small multi chapter.  
> Special thanks of course to @cumbercougars for creating such a gorgeous and inspiring photo, and also for giving me permission to post it here with the fic and to use the title she originally put on the photo. :))

[The Queen's Man by Cumbercougars](http://cumbercougars.tumblr.com/post/167001716719/the-queens-man-sherlolly-medieval-au-queen) 

“Why do you dislike me so?”

Her small voice, echoing off the stone walls, stopped him in his tracks, making him turn at the doorway to her chambers to face her again.

“Dislike you, your Majesty?” Sherlock questioned slowly.

Molly stepped forward, her hands clasped tightly together, clearly a bit nervous.

“It is difficult for me not to notice. It seems as if you can barely stand to look me in the eyes,” she said with a humorless laugh. “Of course I do not expect all who know me to like me simply because I am their Queen, but for someone whose job it is to ensure my safety I should think it important that-”

“I can assure you, your Majesty,” Sherlock stated firmly, “there is nothing more important to me than your safety. I was put here to guard you because there is no one more qualified for the assignment than I am.”

She still appeared hesitant. “I- I had assumed that I somehow…offend you.”

Sherlock sighed, wanting to step closer but thinking better of it, clenching his fists at his side while speaking again.

“There is a reason that I am the best at what I do. It is because I remove emotion and act strictly based on the power of my mind. Emotion clouds judgment and increases the risk of error and exposure to danger.”

Her brow furrowed slightly. “You protect people…without caring?”

Sherlock tried to hold his head up and maintain his position, despite the fact that she clearly questioned the logic. “It is how I work, how I’ve always worked, and I beg of you to trust me.”

The young Queen held his gaze, considering a moment, then she smiled at him.

“I do trust you, Sherlock. I trust you with my life,” she said softly. “But I should also hope to be comfortable in your presence, and for you to be comfortable in mine. I suppose you could say that is how I work.”

He couldn’t help smile inwardly at her clever wording. And perhaps, he thought, this was all part of his work. Perhaps he must bend a little, if only to please his Queen and for the sake of doing his job well.

Sherlock stepped forward, reaching out his gloved hand which she accepted. He lifted her delicate hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles while maintaining eye contact. And then he offered a small smile.

“Whatever you wish, your Majesty,” he murmured, straightening up and clasping his hands behind his back.

He tried to ignore the fresh pink that erupted on her cheeks in that moment, and the sparkle in her eyes as she bid him goodnight. And he tried harder still to ignore the speed of his own pulse as he walked through the door to stand watch outside her chambers. If only she knew how much he had to work at pushing all of those things away, and how he’d been doing so for weeks now.

He vowed that she, his Queen, would never know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More romantic tension and frustrating restraint is on its way, so stay tuned! ;D


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously this fic is just a bunch of feelsy/romantic scenes that come to my head. Plot planning, backstory, and the like has pretty much been swept under the rug lol!

“You called for me?” Sherlock asked as he stepped in.

Queen Molly’s heart leapt in the same way that it always did when he entered a room. It had stopped being a surprise, and now she eagerly anticipated the pleasantly familiar feeling.

“I am in need of your...expertise,” she explained, sweeping her robes to the side so she could cross the room.

“You possess an almost magical ability to read people,” Molly went on. “I know you were watching all of those visiting noblemen and royals and I wish to have your honest opinion on them.”

Sherlock regarded her with curiosity. “Are they not all here to seek your hand, your Majesty? Of what value is my opinion on such a subject? That, you will find, is not my expertise.”

Molly’s insides twisted a bit. She wished with all her heart that her choice in husband would be his exact area of expertise. His opinion on the matter held more weight to her than anyone else in the world.

She shrugged, fiddling with her braid that hung over her shoulder. “It is a weighty matter, one to be decided with great care. I simply wondered if you possessed any particular insights into some of these men. Anything that may give me reason to...dismiss them?”

Sherlock shifted on his feet, hesitating in a strange way, almost nervously.

“I...I find no great fault or danger in any of them,” he finally answered quietly, averting his gaze. “A bit of foolishness perhaps, but nothing more.”

Molly nodded, deciding to press further. “You mean to say that you consider them all worthy then?”

She watched him clench his jaw, pausing briefly before looking at her again.

“To be worthy of a Queen is no easy thing,” he murmured low. “But to be worthy of you...nearly impossible.”

Molly’s heart just about burst. She swallowed thickly before responding.

“But not impossible,” she whispered pointedly.

His lips formed an almost imperceptible smile for a moment before he trained his expression once again and spoke seriously.

“I have the utmost trust that you, my Queen, will make such a decision wisely. You needn’t seek my opinion on the matter in order to find happiness in a match.” With that, he bowed his head and turned to go.

“Sherlock!” Molly called impetuously, making him stop.

“Your Majesty? Was there something else?”

Molly pressed a hand to her middle, the very air she breathed feeling too heavy and painful...restrictive. But she slowly exhaled and reminded herself to think logically.

“No, Sherlock,” she finally answered softly. “Only...thank you, and do sleep well.”

For the briefest of moments, she thought that in his eyes she could detect a hint of disappointment. But of course, it faded all too quickly.

“Sleep well, my Queen,” he replied briskly, and with another slight bow of his head, he was gone.

The young Queen collapsed heavily on her bed the moment she was alone, clasping a hand over her mouth and trying to slow her respiration and calm her heart.

His voice, his eyes connected to hers, the occasional protective touch of his strong hand, and just his very presence...it was all driving her nearly mad. And what frightened her the most was that she was so alone in this glorious madness, and he was so unwavering in his cool indifference. How could she bear to promise herself to another?

She knew very well that she’d already been claimed, and with no hope of release.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoying the super far from reality AU? I know I am. :) More to come soon!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little taste of closeness for these two fools. Enjoy! ;)

Molly leaned out the carriage window, peering over to see what was being done, though, she could already guess it was a bit hopeless.

“We shall no doubt have to pass the night here as it is getting late already,” Mary commented. “This journey is hours long and we’ve only come halfway. With all of us and our things, the horses cannot carry it all, either back to the castle or to our destination.”

Molly sighed at her trusted friend’s words, knowing she was right and naturally feeling a bit guilty. Lord Thomas was likely to worry, or perhaps believe she had slighted his invitation. They hadn’t any official arrangement between them yet, but everyone believed an announcement to be fast approaching.

Sir John walked over to the carriage window. “The wheel is almost cracked through. We cannot possibly continue to travel on it or it will surely break completely. We need to send men back to Bartholomew castle for supplies to make a repair. But they will likely not return till morning. I am sorry, your Majesty.”

“No matter,” she replied in as cheery a tone as the circumstance would allow. “But please do also send one of the fastest horsemen to explain and make apology to Lord Thomas.”

“Yes, your Majesty. And Sherlock is currently setting up a perimeter of guards to keep watch for the night.”

“Are you disappointed?” Mary asked as her husband stepped away again.

Molly looked a bit sheepish. “I imagine I should be more so,” she admitted.

“If I may speak plainly,” Mary suggested gently, “Perhaps that should tell you something?”

Molly climbed out of the carriage a couple hours later, glancing around before noticing Sherlock sitting up on the front seat of the carriage.

“Oh,” she said softly, looking up. “I didn’t know you were sitting there. Where is the driver?”

“Sleeping for a few hours. I thought I should stay here,” he explained. “I’m not in need of rest at the moment.”

Molly reached her hand up, requesting assistance, and he helped pull her up to sit beside him. She adjusted her cloak around her shoulders and looked around the almost pitch black woods.

“You are not tired?” Sherlock questioned.

“My body may need rest, but I fear I cannot quiet my mind,” she said with a sigh. “Besides, both John and Mary snore.”

Sherlock kept the laughter he suddenly let out as quiet as possible, making Molly grin. It wasn’t often she got to see a mirthful side to the man. He was usually all seriousness and work.

A minute later though, Molly began staring off in the distance again, shaking her head and speaking thoughtfully.

“Why must I go?”

“You have already missed the party, your Majesty,” Sherlock reminded her, confused. “I believe there is no need to concern yourself with the requirement to attend anymore.”

“Yes, I know that but why must I do any of it? All of it!” Molly replied wearily. “I want to stay at home, in my castle. I want to rule over my people, as I’ve been doing for many months now. And I want to focus on matters of greater importance than my choice of husband! Why can it not be that simple?”

Sherlock was quiet for a moment before drawing a slow breath.

“Because they’re fools,” he said softly. “Every one of them on your counsel- well, perhaps Sir John has some wit and sense about him on occasion. But they all foolishly and stubbornly cling to the traditions that they’ve known for generations, never once considering that perhaps they hold little or no value. And sometimes even do harm.”

He turned, looking over at her briefly before facing forward again and speaking with conviction.

“It is rightfully your Kingdom and your people, as handed to you by your father, and you need no man at your side.”

Molly gave his moonlit profile an affectionate smile, his words meaning a great deal more to her than she could ever convey within the bounds of propriety. His faith in her as a ruler was just as precious as other things she wished he felt.

“You may sleep here if you wish.”

That strange offer caught her off guard and she frowned at him in question.

“Though I do stand by what I said,” Sherlock explained, “I will admit that there can be practical use for having someone quite literally _at your side_.”

He gave his shoulder a pat of invitation.

Molly was genuinely touched, not used to him offering something so tender and compassionate. She reminded herself though, that she was his Queen and he her servant, so naturally he would be obligated to offer whatever it was she needed. Even if that might be a shoulder to lean on.

She shifted over a bit and finally leaned her head against him, instantly shutting her eyes in bliss at even that tiny taste of his warmth and strength. She settled in comfortably and couldn’t resist letting out a small sigh of contentment. Molly had been privileged enough to enjoy only the finest bedding in her lifetime, but it all paled in comparison.

Nothing compared to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Proud of my little nod to canon with “Bartholomew castle” hehe! :D I mean, yeesh, I had to make something tie into the BBC show! XD


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t seem to stop with the angst and tragic pining at the moment. Enjoy this new little snippet of feels, which also happens to be 100% Johntent. I promise more Sherlolly interaction in the next one. ;)

Sherlock strolled slowly along the path in the garden, hands clasped tightly behind his back, just close enough to observe but far enough not to disturb the conversation between the Queen and her visitor Lord Thomas.

How he loathed the man.

Not to say there was anything particularly terribly about him. If there was, it would be all too easy. Safety would be a convenient excuse to send the man away. But sadly, there was no such excuse to be found. He was pleasant enough, kind enough, _just barely_ intelligent enough, and even seemed to genuinely care for her.

“Good day,” Sir John greeted, entering through a side path.

Sherlock merely made a small grunt in answer, keeping his eyes fixed ahead and on the Queen.

John looked back and forth between Sherlock and his visual target for a moment before speaking.

“I do beg you to be cautious,” he said, keeping his voice low.

Sherlock whipped his head round to briefly shook him a look. “I am cautious in all things, John, that is hardly necessary advice. Trust me, I am keeping close watch on the man.”

“I mean _you_!”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. You and the Queen! The bond between you is obvious to anyone with eyes.”

“Pff, I am her protector,” Sherlock scoffed. “That is my job! How do you expect us to act like strangers?”

“Do not play ignorant, you know exactly the sort of bond I speak of.” John halted, grasping Sherlock’s arm to make him do the same and giving him a hard stare. “I say again...be cautious. You risk your well being and hers if you allow feelings to take root and grow. Especially if she is to be promised to another! Think of that- of her- if concern for yourself is not enough to restrain you.”

Sherlock stared silently back at him for a moment before answering, quiet but firm. “Believe me, my friend, you say nothing that I have not already told myself at least a dozen times _every single day_.”

John regarded him with sadness then, clearly seeing the tragic truth of Sherlock’s words in his eyes. But Sherlock did not give him time for another reply. He quickly turned away again, gave his gloves a tightening tug, and marched on.

“Good day to you, John,” he stated quickly while already walking.

His friend wished him a good day in return, but Sherlock only heard it in passing. He could not stop, could not rest, especially not now. He desperately needed to press on in his duties. At least he could still pour all his strength and focus into his professional service to the Queen, giving her his best in every way in which he was allowed. Staying busy always was the best hope for his peculiar sort of mind.

And in this case, he could only pray that it would also offer some comfort to his aching heart.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder how many chapters of unfulfilled pining I can write before you people hunt me down like a dog? ;D Also, this chapter contains a special request from the BFF PillowSlave. Thanks for that comment on ch 4, my friend. I think it was a most excellent idea! ;)

Molly brought the goblet to her lips, smiling at the table full of friends and guests as she took a swallow of the dark and shimmering wine.

Instantly she felt it.

Molly’s breath hitched and her hand went instinctively to her throat as she set the goblet down with a clatter. A burning sensation spread like wildfire, up and down her neck and covering her tongue. She stood from her seat drawing labored breaths and coughing in exhale. Everyone at the table stared at her in horror and fear, but didn’t seem able to offer assistance. She tried to scream for help, but the pain made it difficult to speak. Tears sprung to her eyes, blurring her view as air seemed to be sucked from her lungs.

As her legs gave way and she collapsed to the ground, still clutching her throat, she could just barely make out the sight of his face staring down at her...

“Wake up! Your Majesty, wake up!”

Molly’s eyes opened and darted around her. She was still holding her throat but the room had grown dark, and there was Sherlock in front of her, grasping her shoulders. She released a comfortingly pain free breath.

It was just a dream.

Molly sniffled, sitting up and wiping her face free of the tears which had actually fallen. Not only was Sherlock sitting there, but two more guards stood at the ready in her doorway, their swords drawn. She realized in embarrassment that she must have been screaming aloud.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she muttered, resting her forehead in her palm. “Please- it’s nothing, just a stupid nightmare. You may go.”

Sherlock gestured to the two guards in the doorway, dismissing them.

“Are you sure you’re well?” Sherlock questioned gently.

Molly nodded. “I am perfectly well. I suppose I was just a bit shaken after dinner this evening. The outcome of my dream was unfortunately worse.”

She thought back to the actual events some hours earlier. Sherlock had stormed into the dining hall as they were all about to eat. He loudly announced that absolutely nobody was to touch their food or drink as he had reason to suspect poison. Not surprisingly, he was correct. He was also able to skillfully pick apart every single guest till he narrowed it down to one particular Earl in attendance who apparently held a petty grudge against the crown for an outstanding tax debt he owed, and he’d decided to make the Queen suffer for it. The man was promptly taken to the dungeon and Sherlock had later used his own methods to personally test the food and drink, confirming poison and sealing the man’s sentence of death.

The reality of her surroundings, her bedroom and his familiar face, were welcomed reminders of her safety, ones she could see and touch. And could touch her...

It was at that moment she realized one of her shoulders was still under the gentle grasp of his hand, making her instinctively glance down at it. Molly hadn’t meant to discourage his touch, and was sad to see his hand quickly slip away. She instantly felt a little colder.

At the removal of his hand though, she also happened to notice then that Sherlock did not have on his usual attire. His torso was covered only by his tunic, specially dyed purple for the color of her royal guard, split at the neck to reveal a distracting glimpse of skin.

She gestured to the garment. “Had I awoken you?”

“Not exactly,” he explained. “I was readying a bath, but then I heard your cries down the corridor.”

Molly’s head knew that of course he was simply doing his duty rushing to her aid in a circumstance like that. But her heart could not help beating a little faster, feeling a little surge of...gratitude, affection, bravery...something of that sort.

She reached out her hand, covering his which now leaned on the bed.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Not only for saving me earlier but also for coming to me now.”

Sherlock stared down at her hand over his for what seemed like ages before finally replying soft and low.

“It is...my pleasure, your Majesty.”

She’d heard such a response to her gratitude innumerable times in her life. Of course it was everyone’s pleasure to provide any sort of service to her. But although she knew he was feeding her the same answer that most would, it certainly did sound nicer coming from his lovely lips.

Molly let out a little sigh and did her best to smile. “I have kept you long enough. You should go and...wash. I will surely be able to sleep now,” she lied.

He seemed to hesitate a moment, pressing his lips together as he looked her over in the invading moonlight. Under his gaze, she felt very suddenly exposed and was a breath away from asking what he was thinking.

“Goodnight then, your Majesty,” he murmured quickly, any hesitation abruptly ending as he lifted himself from her bed, his hand sliding out from under hers as he did.

Molly stayed frozen like that as he took his leave, collapsing back against her pillows only after he’d shut the door. She squeezed her eyes shut, now far more haunted by the memory of his presence on her bed and the lingering burn of his hands upon her than by her nightmare. For no other reason than to hear the words herself, she replied in a whisper.

“Goodnight...dearest Sherlock.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps we haven’t seen the last of the Purple Tunic of Sex. I feel sure I can work it in again somehow. ;)  
> (I still don’t know what I’m doing here btw. Just winging the heck out of this fic lol)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprisingly, given his profession, Sherlock does sometimes let his GUARD down. XD And that’s all you get for opening notes. A bad pun. Read on! ;D

Sherlock walked alongside the Queen in the castle corridor. He couldn’t help a small smile to himself at the sight of her especially shimmering eyes and carefree gait. Intoxicated was too strong a word, but she had consumed two goblets of wine. It was certainly enough to make an small impact.

“How lovely it is tonight!” Molly exclaimed, glancing out one of the windows as they walked along. “The stars are so very bright.”

“They are,” Sherlock agreed, trying to follow her gaze instead of just keeping his eyes on her.

“But I suppose I should get some sleep,” she said with a sigh as she continued walking. “I am expecting a visitor tomorrow. Again!”

“You seem less than thrilled,” he observed, though wondered if he should have said it.

Molly shrugged one shoulder. “Lord Thomas seems a good and honorable sort of man. I suppose I just wish...” She stopped short as she neared the door to her chambers, leaning her back against the stone. “I wish he made me feel differently than he does.”

“And how does he make you feel?” Sherlock asked, knowing it was likely a mistake to do so.

She looked deep into his eyes, deeper than he was used to.

“Very little,” she answered simply and then gave him a rueful smile. “But perhaps I cannot feel the way I wish to. That burning fire that consumes from the inside out with just a touch or a glance! Perhaps it is not for me to have such things in a marriage, as a Queen. I may be wishing for what is not within my reach.”

Before she could bid him goodnight, Sherlock opened his mouth. What good would it do? What sense was there to say the words hanging on his lips? And yet, he was driven by a force that refused to pay heed to that sort of reason and logic.

“You should have what you describe,” he stated firmly, taking a step toward her. “Such a wish is not unreasonable.”

She stared up at him, lips slightly parted and eyes now wide with interest.

It seemed that his brain drove him on, using the logic that he’d already spoken out of place, so why not go further?

Sherlock lifted his hand, bringing it up to meet her cheek, attractively flushed and warm from the wine. He smiled ever so slightly as his thumb moved back and forth, enjoying the feel of her skin which he so rarely experienced.

“You deserve to be happy,” he continued in a whisper. “And if it were up to me, you would have...everything you speak of.”

Molly tilted her head, gently leaning into his hand a bit more before raising an especially inviting gaze to meet his. He was drawn in, of course he was. A look like that demanded a response, and to hell with the consequences...

Footsteps in the hallway made him jerk back though, removing his hand and replacing it with the proper amount of distance. A wave of guilt ran through him as the unsuspecting servant girl passed quickly by, unaware of what she’d interrupted. Sherlock used the break in mood to gain control of the situation once again.

He reached past the Queen, opening the door to her chambers and standing aside for her to enter.

“I believe I should bid you goodnight,” he stated as evenly as possible.

The way her expression fell as she slipped past him, it cut Sherlock straight to the heart, even though he knew this was the only possible outcome for tonight. She turned once she was through the doorway.

“Sherlock, thank you for what you said I deserve,” she stated quite earnestly. “I promise you I shall not forget it.”

He shut his mouth decisively this time and simply gave her a nod and brief smile before walking away and thinking to himself that that was the trouble.

He would not forget it either.

* * *

 

Later that next day, Sherlock strolled leisurely through the castle’s garden. He was deep in thought, and mostly about the events of the night before. Coincidentally though, as he walked, his ears perked up at the sound of voices and he realized he’d happened upon the Queen and Lady Mary talking privately. Initially, he thought to turn and walk away...but then he heard the subject of conversation.

“But what do you imagine will happen now that you have refused Lord Thomas?” Mary asked. “This is hardly a complete solution to your heartache.”

He heard Queen Molly sigh heavily.

“I suppose not, but regardless, my heart could not allow me to accept him. I hadn’t wished to before, but especially after last night!”

Sherlock’s heart halted.

“If only you had seen him, Mary, seen his eyes! You would not believe it to be so impossible.”

“My dear, it is not Sherlock’s regard which seems impossible,” she replied with a little laugh. “It is everyone else! Your council, the court, the entire kingdom! It is their expectations that make such a union impossible. Believe me when I say that I wish it were not so, but it is. I cannot think how such a thing would be in any way accepted.”

There was a brief silence as Molly seemingly considered her friend’s words. Sherlock held his breath in anticipation.

“I do not care about that,” Molly stated firmly. “I care only for his feelings and mine. And if our feelings are the same then I will not give up believing that we can be together...no matter the cost.”

Sherlock shut his eyes and exhaled slowly as he listened to her words. This was his fault, his doing. If he’d done his job as he’d first set out to do it, she would not be in this mess. But instead he let his guard down, slipped, and fell hard, taking her with him. And now she might pay dearly.

Slowly and silently, he turned and retreated out of the garden, flooded by equal parts heartbreak and determination. He marched back into the castle and directly to his room, knowing what he must do.

Sherlock sat down at his little wooden desk and prepared to composes a letter. He was not one to keep close family ties, but this was an occasion which moved him to reach out. He murmured aloud to himself as he began scribbling rapidly.

“Dear Brother...”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you’re all gearing up to get angry with me already lol. Save it though! More frustration to come next time...and maybe a little something to look forward to as well. ;)


	7. Chapter 7

Sherlock stepped into the Queen’s private library, his steps hesitant and his heart heavy. He was not normally a penitent man, but he prayed that today he was doing the right thing. And he prayed even harder for the strength to do it.

She stood facing the large window, the sunlight illuminating her outline with head bent slightly toward the pages of a book.

Sherlock cleared his throat. “Forgive the disturbance, your Majesty.”

“No no, it is not unwelcome,” she replied brightly, setting the book down and giving him her full attention.

Almost instantly though, she could clearly tell something was not quite right, and her demeanor thus shifted.

“Was there...something you needed?” Molly questioned, now more hesitant.

He found himself unable to look her fully in the eyes when finally forcing the words from his lips.

“My brother has need of me,” he answered. “He is a chief advisor to the Queen of a Kingdom to the East. I must depart today, as I am expected by tomorrow.”

“Ah, I see,” she said softly, looking a bit relieved. “Of course I will allow you to travel to your brother if he is in need. When shall we expect your return?”

“Forgive me, your Majesty...you should not expect it.”

The Queen’s dark eyes snapped to his lighter ones, shock and confusion more than evident.

“Pardon? N-no, we cannot spare you...forever. Surely his need cannot be so great! I can offer you only a temporary leave.” She had begun fiddling nervously with the sash around her waist.

“Nevertheless, my leave must be a permanent one,” Sherlock persisted, doing his best to school his features.

She let out a humorless laugh, frowning at him. “I- I do not understand. You would leave the service to your Queen? Leave...me?”

The very slight catch in her voice almost made him crumble to pieces where he stood.

“Why?” Molly asked, stepping a bit closer.

Their gaze remained unbroken for a few silent moments before Sherlock drew a breath of courage and answered softly.

“I believe you know.”

Her eyes widened ever so slightly, obviously wondering how to respond and wondering if he truly meant what she suspected. Her lips parted but no words emerged, so Sherlock went on.

“We cannot continue...as we are.” His eyes pleaded with hers. “Surely you must know that.”

She shook her head in disbelief, defiantly stepping closer and staring him down almost menacingly.

“What I know is that I need you here with me. This is your place!”

“Yes, my place!” Sherlock shot back, his volume rising. “My place as your Majesty’s personal guard! And if that was truly all you needed- all I needed- then perhaps I could stay!”

She looked especially pained as he spelled out the real issue at hand.

“I beg you to forgive me, and to understand,” he said, his voice softening again. “I must do this...for you.”

Her little hand shot out, suddenly grasping his arm.

“For me? This is not what I need you to do for me.” Her teeth were clenched and gaze insistent. “I told you that I need you here!”

“But I cannot be here anymore!” he shot back, just as forcefully.

“You most certainly can, you simply choose to leave.”

“Because I must!”

“What are you so afraid of?”

“This!”

He barely growled out that one word confession before his mouth was locked onto hers. The moment he did it though, he wished he hadn’t.

Her mouth was the sweetest torment imaginable, considering the circumstances. Because this could be his first and last taste.

The only indication of surprise from the Queen was a little gasp at first contact, but beyond that it was as if she’d initiated the kiss herself. Her fingers slid into his hair against his scalp and her other arm slid around the back of his neck to pull herself in close. She tilted her head, deepening the kiss with a sigh and making his head spin. Sherlock’s arm around her waist tightened, and he honestly considered lifting her, moving them over behind one of the book shelves, and hiding there in the shadows where he could forget everything else in the world except her lips and tongue and the sound of her enticingly unsteady breathing.

“Stay.”

When she murmured the word against his open mouth, that broke the spell.

Sherlock gently took her arms and separated her from him, stepping away with his clenched fist covering his now burning lips before speaking again.

“Can you not see that this is why I cannot stay? I can no longer be here without the risk of doing that!”

“Then do that!” Molly bit back, her eyes shimmering with moisture now. “Stay and do that every day, every hour! Because I have never before felt happier!”

“It would be your undoing,” Sherlock stated firmly. “I would be your undoing. You know this.”

She shook her head but made no reply, because of course there was none to be made.

Sherlock took the risk of reaching over and taking hold of her hand as he went on.

“You are...a magnificent ruler. You are good and kind and fair. The Kingdom and everyone in it needs you. Just you.”

“I care nothing for that now,” she insisted, her voice quavering.

Sherlock smiled at her, a knowing smile.

“Ah but you do,” he whispered. “I know you care. Your father’s kingdom, and the fact that he left it in your hands, means the world to you. Which is why I could never allow myself to cause the slightest disturbance to your rulership.”

“What is it that you expect me to do? Watch you walk away forever and happily carry on?” Molly questioned, pulling her hand free.

He clenched his jaw, unable to make a reply as he knew that any sort would be understandably distasteful to her.

She shook her head again, more exasperated. “You must not love me if you insist on leaving like this.”

At that he stepped closer again, cradling her face in his hands.

“But I do, I do love you!” Sherlock whispered vehemently, his eyes desperate.

Molly squeezed her eyes shut, clasping her hands over his as if holding him in place.

“Never doubt that, ever,” he went on softly. “I love you.”

A single tear escaped from her closed eyes as she murmured, “please just go, if you must. Before I try to stop you again.”

Sherlock released a shaky breath, pressed a kiss to her forehead, and then did as she bid him, grateful for her mercy. As he made it to the door though, he heard her again.

“Sherlock?”

Her voice was barely a whisper now, but somehow it echoed, loud and all consuming throughout his whole body.

“I love you.”

One brief second more of his eyes connected to hers across the room...and then he fled. He fled and didn’t turn back, not once. Not even when he’d left the castle, mounted his horse readied with his things, and rode away from the Kingdom which had unquestionably become his home. He couldn’t risk looking back now, or he may never make himself leave again. He did remind himself as he rode though, that perhaps he would return one day. Anything was possible.

But in that moment, it seemed like little more than a fantasy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh I know, you don’t have to say it. I can already guess lol. “How could you?! How could HE?? He can’t just leave like that!!” Not that I’m telling you not to comment and yell at me in your own words if you’d like. Do go ahead! XD  
> I believe there will be just one more chapter left, so stay tuned for that. Hopefully I’ll be posting that within the week. See you then! ;)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, my little fic has come to a close! This was a fun one. Thanks again to the original inspirational photo manip, that was the bomb. Hope you guys all enjoy how I wrap things up in this final part. :)

Molly climbed the steps of the grandstand and stepped in front of the railing in order to smile and wave to the crowd. A cheer erupted from the vast array of people that covered the jousting field and all surrounding viewing areas. As she finished her greeting, the announcer stepped up and began speaking to the crowds.

“I confess I am rather relieved that this is the final day of the tournament,” Mary commented as Molly took a seat next to her. “My poor back can endure these seats no longer.”

Molly smiled at her friend. “There is very little you can easily endure at the moment, but I believe that is to be expected.” She gave Mary’s large belly a little pat.

John came rushing up the steps just then, looking rather bright eyed.

“My dear, would you care to take a walk with me?” he asked, offering his hand to Mary.

The two exited the grandstand and Molly was left with her thoughts as the tournament began. She too could admit that she wouldn’t be sorry to have this all be over by the end of the day. This was the fifth day now, sitting out here, watching men do their best to tear each other limb from limb, and all the while listening to cheers of joy from the crowds. There was a measure of entertainment to it of course, but only so many days of it that she could take.

And besides, the finale was hanging over her head a bit.

She’d scoffed at first, at the idea that along with the honor and reward, she would present a kiss to the victor. But her counsel convinced her that it was all in good sport and would be incredibly popular with the competitors and crowds. They were correct of course.

She only hoped that she would remember what in the world to do...given that it had been nearly a year and a half since her lips had last touched another’s.

* * *

 

“This is so thrilling,” Mary murmured, leaning forward in her seat with her eyes glued to the field.

Molly chuckled at her. “Ever since this morning you have suddenly become enthralled with this tournament. I thought you were looking forward to it being over!”

Mary shrugged. “Perhaps the last stretch is just the most exciting part. Not long now, and it seems likely who the winner will be.”

Molly pressed her lips together in thought. She wasn’t so sure she was glad about that. Some mysterious knight with a skull on his flag who hadn’t even shown his face yet...not a man she looked forward to rewarding with a kiss. Sir John had assured her though, his papers checked out. The Lord this knight was competing in behalf of simply preferred to remain anonymous for the time being.

Mary grasped Molly’s arm excitedly as they prepared for the final joust between the only two remaining competitors. And when the signal was given, they charged ahead at a frightening speed. Something about it made Molly shut her eyes at the last moment, half afraid of what she would see.

And then she heard the cheering.

Her eyes flew open again and she saw that the knight clad in blue and grey lay on the ground, his attendants rushing to help him up...and there was the black knight, still mounted proudly on his horse.

“He did it, he did it!” Mary exclaimed, looking as if her eyes were actually tearing up.

Molly laughed again at Mary’s unexpected emotion as she stood and applauded along with the crowd while the announcer climbed up onto his little podium and motioned for quiet so he could speak.

“And we have a winner! He wished not to be known before. But that is because he is not competing for his Lord and master, but in behalf of himself! Our winner is...Lord Sherlock Holmes!”

Every little hair on the back of Molly’s neck and arms stood on end. She felt as though she might black out and crumple to the ground. Her jaw had fallen slack as her eyes stayed riveted to the announcer and this black knight who had dismounted and gone to stand alongside him. And then he removed his helmet.

Molly had to reach out and grasp the railing of the grandstand, steadying herself as the world swayed around her. She could see only straight ahead...right into those eyes.

She finally glanced over at Mary who was smiling, calm and sweet.

“Y-you knew?” Molly questioned, and her friend nodded.

“John told me this morning. We hadn’t known all along, but once Sherlock believed it was likely he could win, he sought John out and told him everything.”

Molly opened her mouth, ready to fire off about a million more questions, but then the announcer’s voice boomed once again.

“And along with the prize of this priceless garnished sword, his Lordship is also awarded a kiss from non other than her Majesty the Queen!” The announcer gestured toward her with a grand flourish of his arm.

Silence fell and everyone, including Molly, seemed frozen in time. It was Sherlock who moved first. He stepped from the announcer’s podium and walked slowly toward the grandstand, stopping a few paces away to drop to one knee and bow his head humbly for a moment before rising again and looking up at her.

“Permission to claim such an undeserved prize, your Majesty?” Sherlock asked, just loud enough for her to hear.

Something snapped in her then. Perhaps it was hearing his voice, hearing him actually speak to her once again. Whatever it was, Molly was quite literally moved.

She hurried past Mary and then down the steps, walking around the front to where he stood and halting a few feet away for just a moment, to convince herself that it really was him.

And then she rushed forward.

Molly was instantly wrapped in his arms as her lips met his. She was vaguely aware of the roar of cheering and applause that surrounded them, but she was far more focused on the fact that he was holding her, kissing her, and really with her once more. It was him and this wasn’t a dream.

She finally pulled away looking into his eyes desperately. “Are you truly?”

“A-am I truly what?”

“A Lord!” Molly clarified. “Are you a Lord or is this some sort of elaborate ruse?”

“I truly am.” Sherlock smiled kindly, gently caressing her face. “There is much to tell.”

* * *

 

They stole away soon after the tournament had concluded and before the evening feast would begin, back to the very same library where they’d parted so tragically. They sat on the window’s ledge, her hand in his, as he told her of the events over the previous year.

“I did try to leave and truly leave you behind,” Sherlock explained. “My brother could see through all that though. He quickly realized that there was more to my sudden move than I was letting on. But it wasn’t till about six months after I’d arrived that he put all the pieces together. That was when word traveled that you had decreed your council no longer prioritize choosing a husband, and that you would be ruling on your own till you saw fit to change that.”

Molly smiled softly. “You told me that my kingdom needed me. I thought about that quite a bit after you left, and it helped build my courage to eventually put my foot down.”

“When my brother related that news to me, I suppose my reaction, subtle though it was, was a bit telling.” Sherlock smiled. “He is not commonly a sentimental man, but he took pity on me and began to set events in motion that could actually mean a bit of hope. He put me in the employment of a Lord Magnussen, a truly horrid man, but it did allow me to get so far as being knighted. That was when things got a bit complicated.”

“What do you mean?” Molly was riveted to this tale by now.

“There was corruption at court; bribes, threats, manipulation, and more. My brother didn’t like it, but he also couldn’t quite put a stop to it. I took things in my own hands and began digging deeper. Not surprisingly, I found that Lord Magnussen was at the very heart of all that corruption. Every nasty little path led back to him. Once I had gathered enough evidence, I presented it to my brother and his queen. Naturally, Lord Magnussen was stripped of his title and land, imprisoned, and eventually executed. The queen first thought to simply award me monetarily, but my brother had a far better idea.”

Molly smiled, knowing now how this story was to end so happily.

“Lord Magnussen’s land and title were thus transferred...to me.” He grinned and brought her hand up for a kiss. “I established myself in the position, and then had only to carefully plan my return to you, hoping that it would be well received.”

“How could it be otherwise?” she whispered. “Though I should have liked to have a letter or two!”

“I feared raising your hopes,” he said seriously. “Gaining a significant title and status seemed out of reach for a long time. It was not until the former Lord Magnussen’s downfall just a couple of months ago that things changed so dramatically. I did plan to write you, but then I heard of the tournament...and I couldn’t resist a more dramatic return.”

Molly’s head fell back as she let out a little laugh. “You do enjoy a bit of dramatics, don’t you?”

Sherlock chuckled. “I fear I’ll never be respected as a nobleman.”

Molly’s laughter stilled and she licked her lips, smiling at him slyly. “But perhaps as a king...”

His expression became more serious as well. He regarded her with some hesitance.

“I returned with hope, but could hardly be sure,” he said softly. “But your Majesty- Molly...if you would have me-“

Molly lunged forward, capturing his mouth once again and enjoying the way it was becoming so familiar and comfortable. Her fingers gripped the tunic at the base of his neck; the tunic he’d kept from his days of service in this castle, which was now worn underneath his finer garments.

Sherlock released a shaky breath as she slid her lips away from his. “That is a yes, I take it?”

Molly nodded, her fingers remaining comfortably in place at his neckline. “A thousand times, yes,” she whispered.

“Then I imagine we have quite the announcement to make at the feast tonight,” he said with a grin.

Molly slid closer, nestling her head against his neck as his arm encircled her shoulder.

“Must we join the party soon?” she whined softly. “I had you and then I lost you, and finally now you’re mine again! I hate to be parted again, even briefly.”

“My Queen,” Sherlock murmured affectionately, before pressing a kiss to her head. “You never truly lost me, and never will again. In truth...I have always been yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hello, sugary sweet sappy ending. I guess I kinda needed it though, to offset all the ust and pining early on. Though honestly I think I write that stuff better than the sap haha!  
> Oh and wanted to give a shoutout to the bestie PillowSlave who was the one that suggested Sherlock make his grand return during a jousting tournament. Thought that would be a fun way to write it, despite the fact that I feel I fell a bit flat in describing the event. And a second shoutout to Tboy1971 because you totally also suggested that idea lol! You commented a few days after my friend brought it up, but I had to let you know that you were totally on the same wavelength. ;)  
> Thanks again for reading, guys, and also for leaving lovely comments. I very much appreciate it, as always! :D  
> (Another note- I totally played it fast and loose with this fic and had no beta reading done whatsoever. Any sloppiness or mistakes are all mine.)


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